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One might be wondering what Santa Claus and sicknesses have in common. Well, let me tell you. In my household this week the two are sin-ominous with the topsy-turvy roller coaster ride of holiday cares and worries, excitement and surprise, health and happiness, and sickness and vomiting.
As we all know, traveling during the holidays is fraught with frustrations and dangers: loose wires, burnt fuses, and blown low beam lights; threats of traffic tickets, drunk drivers galore; and unfamiliar bugs, viruses, and colds to contend with, to name a few.
Our seven-hour trip to Vermont went off relatively smoothly. The initial plan to leave the night before, at 9 p.m., was scrapped for a more realistic plan of leaving at 3 a.m., the following morning. Then again, that idea was laid to rest before full gestation; and we finally agreed to embark on our momentous sojourn a little before 8 a.m., our day one of three out-of-state. For much of the drive– almost five-and-one-half-hours worth– the kids were great! Playing, laughing, entertaining themselves quickly became the norm. It was only after leaving the speeds of Interstate travel for the serpentine roads of backwater NY and Vermont that the kids realized they were bored. And bored they acted.
The actual visit worked out well. The kids had fun, Grandma and Grandpa had fun, and we had fun too. The only problem came when Simon was sick the second day of our visit. After vomiting in a local store, he remained close to my side or lying on my chest for the remainder of the day. Taylor ended up feeling under the weather on the car ride home, which allowed her to sleep comfortably a good portion of the trip, which worked out well for Mom and Dad.
Christmas was celebrated in our home Christmas Eve morning. A perfect day for the kids.
Christmas Day, however, was ugly. Simon was sick. Taylor was sick. And Daddy quickly reached his wit’s end dealing with two needy children.
As for today, Simon's not well. Last night he was sick– throwing up and diarrhea. Taylor also threw up once before bed.
Simon was up at 11:40 pm, 1:40am, 2:40am, 3:40am, and he threw up all over his room around 4am this morning. He's thrown up three more times this morning. Suffice to say, we've done a lot of laundry this morning!
What does Santa and sicknesses have in common? A quick visit will show you all you need to know.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Welcome Back.
December 26, 2010
Life, or the continual humdrum of our daily routine sparkled with glorious and propitious events that ease the pains of our frustratingly familiar sacrifices our family has willfully sustained these last few years has prompted me– once again– to turn on my laptop and start plugging away at the keyboard in a vain attempt to document bits and pieces of our family’s times together and apart: the good, the not-so-good, the funny, the sad; our drama as it unfolds before our eyes or under the guise of child development and tired memories.
A writer at heart, I return to the promising blank screen optimistic, a little weary, and uncertain as to the immediate direction I wish to take with these writings. In the past, with mixed success, I’ve tried to keep pace with weekly writings, thoughts, and reminiscing. I’ve tried to ward off pressing and important issues by writing early in the morning, late at night, or once the kids fall asleep during nap time. Those times, well used and retired, are no longer available. I need my sleep– I cannot wake any earlier than I already do. Bedtime is now my running time– Adrianne and I are committing to training for a 1/2 marathon this spring, part of our 2011 New Year’s resolutions! And nap time has not existed in our household for an eternity. Thankfully our 23,000 digital photographs and three scrapbooks my wife and I took and made (or in the process of finishing) will fill in the missing months I reluctantly skipped as I tried to entertain, educate, and encourage Taylor and Simon throughout the spring, summer, and fall of 2010 by going to the beach, hiking, walking, visiting, and going to various playgrounds, events, and activities.
Again, I ask myself, what direction do I want to take with of these writings? Eventually, I want to edit the lot of them, add photo’s to complement the text, and have them published for our kids– a self-published family heritage booklet. Until I come up with a better idea, for now, I’m continuing with the Blog I began so very long ago as a whim to ease the hours of solitude and separation.
Hell, maybe someone else might even enjoy reading this, too.
Life, or the continual humdrum of our daily routine sparkled with glorious and propitious events that ease the pains of our frustratingly familiar sacrifices our family has willfully sustained these last few years has prompted me– once again– to turn on my laptop and start plugging away at the keyboard in a vain attempt to document bits and pieces of our family’s times together and apart: the good, the not-so-good, the funny, the sad; our drama as it unfolds before our eyes or under the guise of child development and tired memories.
A writer at heart, I return to the promising blank screen optimistic, a little weary, and uncertain as to the immediate direction I wish to take with these writings. In the past, with mixed success, I’ve tried to keep pace with weekly writings, thoughts, and reminiscing. I’ve tried to ward off pressing and important issues by writing early in the morning, late at night, or once the kids fall asleep during nap time. Those times, well used and retired, are no longer available. I need my sleep– I cannot wake any earlier than I already do. Bedtime is now my running time– Adrianne and I are committing to training for a 1/2 marathon this spring, part of our 2011 New Year’s resolutions! And nap time has not existed in our household for an eternity. Thankfully our 23,000 digital photographs and three scrapbooks my wife and I took and made (or in the process of finishing) will fill in the missing months I reluctantly skipped as I tried to entertain, educate, and encourage Taylor and Simon throughout the spring, summer, and fall of 2010 by going to the beach, hiking, walking, visiting, and going to various playgrounds, events, and activities.
Again, I ask myself, what direction do I want to take with of these writings? Eventually, I want to edit the lot of them, add photo’s to complement the text, and have them published for our kids– a self-published family heritage booklet. Until I come up with a better idea, for now, I’m continuing with the Blog I began so very long ago as a whim to ease the hours of solitude and separation.
Hell, maybe someone else might even enjoy reading this, too.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Tired.
Today I am tired, bone tired. Bone tired, thirsty and sore all over. It’s early. It’s early once again, for the third time this week. Thank God the coffee machine didn’t wake Taylor up– she’s … awake! And, of course, whining for momma and asking for breakfast. Whoever said that foolish consistency was the hobgoblin of simple minds? The combinations of these late nights, early mornings, and our new exercise program are, sadly, beginning to take their toll on my mind and especially my body.
I would like to think that I’m not a hobgoblin or simple minded. I stay up a little later than the kids so that I can read a book of my choice– one of my few respites I refuse to relinquish for a few more minutes of sleep. I exercise because I want to remain healthy throughout my children’s youth and to set a good example for them to follow as they grow up and into childhood sports. Wouldn’t it be amazing if one or both of my kids wanted to walk the entire length of the Long Trail, the Appalachian Trail, or along side Hadrian’s Wall with us before heading off to college? I wake up early because the kids are not ready to wake by themselves, fix their breakfast, or be alone for an hour or two just yet– despite the latest article I read in Parenting Magazine which made the claims that a two-year-old could fend for him or herself for an hour alone while the parent(s) slept in. Rather, I’m doing– just as Adrianne is doing– whatever we need to do to provide the best we can for our children. This last month, more than any other time in recent memory, has produced wave after wave after wave of setbacks: new bills, more bills, less anticipated money coming in, and a disappointing tax return. We can’t go on living check to check– it’s just not working anymore. And then again, our bodies can only take so much. Working longer and harder will not starve off the situation we are in, despite our best intentions and willingness to make additional sacrifices to earn an extra buck.
There is a silver lining. There is always a silver lining glimmering off in the distance– visible and alluring. Our lining is made up of faith: a faith that God is looking over us; a faith that we’ll be all right; a faith that somehow someway we’ll not only make it through these difficult times but that we’ll have increase. I believe we will. We have to. We just have to.
As I sit typing these words on my laptop at the kitchen table in the early morning hours drinking my second cup of coffee, wrapped in the warmth of our house, and occasionally glancing out at the birds fighting through the frigid 30 mph winds, dodging blankets of blowing snow on the other side of window to my left to peck through the frozen cages of our birdfeeders, listening to Simon’s baby monitor sound the soothing “hush, hush, hush” and watching Taylor pretend to feed a stuffed dog with one of her baby’s bottles for breakfast, I know we are blessed. God is with us. God is watching out for us. God is by our side. But I also know we need to do more. Just because He can doesn’t mean he will.
On that note, my boy’s awake! I need to fix him some food, exercise, shovel the night’s snow out the driveway, read a bundle of Dr. Seuss books, and sooner or later take the kids outside to play with their snowmen, to the store to walk around a bit to stretch their legs, or visit one of our relatives … all before noon. It never stops. Don’t ever stop.
PS: The answer to the foolish consistency question, as we all slap our heads in doleful remembrance to our 11th grade American Literature class, is Emerson.
I would like to think that I’m not a hobgoblin or simple minded. I stay up a little later than the kids so that I can read a book of my choice– one of my few respites I refuse to relinquish for a few more minutes of sleep. I exercise because I want to remain healthy throughout my children’s youth and to set a good example for them to follow as they grow up and into childhood sports. Wouldn’t it be amazing if one or both of my kids wanted to walk the entire length of the Long Trail, the Appalachian Trail, or along side Hadrian’s Wall with us before heading off to college? I wake up early because the kids are not ready to wake by themselves, fix their breakfast, or be alone for an hour or two just yet– despite the latest article I read in Parenting Magazine which made the claims that a two-year-old could fend for him or herself for an hour alone while the parent(s) slept in. Rather, I’m doing– just as Adrianne is doing– whatever we need to do to provide the best we can for our children. This last month, more than any other time in recent memory, has produced wave after wave after wave of setbacks: new bills, more bills, less anticipated money coming in, and a disappointing tax return. We can’t go on living check to check– it’s just not working anymore. And then again, our bodies can only take so much. Working longer and harder will not starve off the situation we are in, despite our best intentions and willingness to make additional sacrifices to earn an extra buck.
There is a silver lining. There is always a silver lining glimmering off in the distance– visible and alluring. Our lining is made up of faith: a faith that God is looking over us; a faith that we’ll be all right; a faith that somehow someway we’ll not only make it through these difficult times but that we’ll have increase. I believe we will. We have to. We just have to.
As I sit typing these words on my laptop at the kitchen table in the early morning hours drinking my second cup of coffee, wrapped in the warmth of our house, and occasionally glancing out at the birds fighting through the frigid 30 mph winds, dodging blankets of blowing snow on the other side of window to my left to peck through the frozen cages of our birdfeeders, listening to Simon’s baby monitor sound the soothing “hush, hush, hush” and watching Taylor pretend to feed a stuffed dog with one of her baby’s bottles for breakfast, I know we are blessed. God is with us. God is watching out for us. God is by our side. But I also know we need to do more. Just because He can doesn’t mean he will.
On that note, my boy’s awake! I need to fix him some food, exercise, shovel the night’s snow out the driveway, read a bundle of Dr. Seuss books, and sooner or later take the kids outside to play with their snowmen, to the store to walk around a bit to stretch their legs, or visit one of our relatives … all before noon. It never stops. Don’t ever stop.
PS: The answer to the foolish consistency question, as we all slap our heads in doleful remembrance to our 11th grade American Literature class, is Emerson.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Decisions.
From the earliest time I can remember in our daughter’s life we’ve consciously made the efforts to allow Taylor choice in the simplest decisions throughout her day: which pair of pants does she want to wear, which pair of boots, shirt. Does she want hair product in her hair, or does she want to put her hair up in a tie. We learned early on that when she made a choice for herself she inexplicably and proudly followed through with her decision. At the same token, when we choose for her, especially those things that she could have chosen herself, we almost always met resistance. One would think this independence gets in the way, especially when one is in a hurry to get out the door to run errand, visit friends, etc. It does. But these short-term, little inconveniences are well worth the frustrations. The older our kids get the more obvious it is that what we do today, consistently, will either help or hinder them in the near and distant future. And that includes allowing them to make their own decisions and allowing them to, within reason, suffer the consequences of making poor choices.
Don’t get me wrong, I want my kids to grow up happy, remain happy throughout their adulthood, and pass their happiness onto future generations. I believe they should have a love, a fear, and possess a healthy knowledge of the Lord. Their salvation is of the up most concern, and so is their understanding of good and evil. How can one possibly understand human nature without a solid understanding of why men are the way they are and do what they do without this basic knowledge? I believe they should respect their minds and bodies. The exercise of one does not cure the squander of the other. I was a typical jock in high school, that is, of course, until I figured out that playing football and / or hockey at the college level will do very little for me in the way of the world. I wasted, literally squandered away three years of free education for what? Nothing. There is no reason why I couldn’t have been sports-minded and academically focused as a freshman, sophomore, and junior instead of being forced to learn to be a student in my first year of college. And I believe my kids need to find mentors, have true friends, and find a spouse they love and who loves them in return. But making these future choices will be up to them, not us. We can’t be by their sides throughout the rest of their lives, nor should we want to. The best we can do for our kids is to teach them when they are young how to make choices and, as hard as it may be, allow them to experience those painful teachable moments all parents dread seeing their children go through.
I heard the other day that the way an eagle teaches their young to fly is to grasp them in their talons, fly way up high in the air, and let them go tumbling down towards the earth. The adults do this over and over and over until the little ones figure out how to fly. There are no instruction manuals; there are no practice runs; there are no wing holding sessions. When it’s time to learn to fly, they fly. No questions. No excuses. What can be learned by this? It’s simple: let them fly. We need to let our kids experience life, make mistakes, and, just as importantly, be nearby to lend a hand before they crash and burn. How else can we expect them to learn, to truly understand the ramifications of poor decisions.
For our kids, making the correct choice, or, more importantly, making the wrong choices and learning from their mistakes happens right now– when they are young and their choices won’t hurt them much, unlike it would as a teenager or young adult if they never learned how to make choices. For example, Taylor hates zipping up her jacket and wearing a hat outside– no matter how cold it is. We’ve tried to fight her on this. We’ve failed, miserably.
She’s three. She is smart enough to know when she’s cold, when her ears hurt from the icy northern breeze and when her chest is breaking out in goose bumps. Instead of arguing with her while she’s getting dressed I now give her options. If she chooses unwisely I remind her of the consequences of, for example, not wearing a hat. These include being cold, coming inside early, and, depending on the temperature, not being allowed outside at all. When she does decide not to wear a hat, which is happening less and less often since I starting doing this, we’ll still go outside and play. Now, instead of carrying her hat and continually asking her, “Do you want to wear your hat?” I place her hat outside by the front door. When she gets cold, no matter where we are playing in the backyard, it is her responsibility to walk across the entire length of the property and put on her own hat. Sounds simple, right? It isn’t. Anyone with kids will tell you that watching their children struggle is not fun at all. It hurts. It hurts a lot. But unless we allow them to make their own decisions, right or wrong, they’ll never learn how to make those future decisions, the ones that really count.
Don’t get me wrong, I want my kids to grow up happy, remain happy throughout their adulthood, and pass their happiness onto future generations. I believe they should have a love, a fear, and possess a healthy knowledge of the Lord. Their salvation is of the up most concern, and so is their understanding of good and evil. How can one possibly understand human nature without a solid understanding of why men are the way they are and do what they do without this basic knowledge? I believe they should respect their minds and bodies. The exercise of one does not cure the squander of the other. I was a typical jock in high school, that is, of course, until I figured out that playing football and / or hockey at the college level will do very little for me in the way of the world. I wasted, literally squandered away three years of free education for what? Nothing. There is no reason why I couldn’t have been sports-minded and academically focused as a freshman, sophomore, and junior instead of being forced to learn to be a student in my first year of college. And I believe my kids need to find mentors, have true friends, and find a spouse they love and who loves them in return. But making these future choices will be up to them, not us. We can’t be by their sides throughout the rest of their lives, nor should we want to. The best we can do for our kids is to teach them when they are young how to make choices and, as hard as it may be, allow them to experience those painful teachable moments all parents dread seeing their children go through.
I heard the other day that the way an eagle teaches their young to fly is to grasp them in their talons, fly way up high in the air, and let them go tumbling down towards the earth. The adults do this over and over and over until the little ones figure out how to fly. There are no instruction manuals; there are no practice runs; there are no wing holding sessions. When it’s time to learn to fly, they fly. No questions. No excuses. What can be learned by this? It’s simple: let them fly. We need to let our kids experience life, make mistakes, and, just as importantly, be nearby to lend a hand before they crash and burn. How else can we expect them to learn, to truly understand the ramifications of poor decisions.
For our kids, making the correct choice, or, more importantly, making the wrong choices and learning from their mistakes happens right now– when they are young and their choices won’t hurt them much, unlike it would as a teenager or young adult if they never learned how to make choices. For example, Taylor hates zipping up her jacket and wearing a hat outside– no matter how cold it is. We’ve tried to fight her on this. We’ve failed, miserably.
She’s three. She is smart enough to know when she’s cold, when her ears hurt from the icy northern breeze and when her chest is breaking out in goose bumps. Instead of arguing with her while she’s getting dressed I now give her options. If she chooses unwisely I remind her of the consequences of, for example, not wearing a hat. These include being cold, coming inside early, and, depending on the temperature, not being allowed outside at all. When she does decide not to wear a hat, which is happening less and less often since I starting doing this, we’ll still go outside and play. Now, instead of carrying her hat and continually asking her, “Do you want to wear your hat?” I place her hat outside by the front door. When she gets cold, no matter where we are playing in the backyard, it is her responsibility to walk across the entire length of the property and put on her own hat. Sounds simple, right? It isn’t. Anyone with kids will tell you that watching their children struggle is not fun at all. It hurts. It hurts a lot. But unless we allow them to make their own decisions, right or wrong, they’ll never learn how to make those future decisions, the ones that really count.
Monday, February 15, 2010
The New Year 2010.
The holidays came; the holidays went. We visited family and friends; family and friends visited with us. Sicknesses came; sicknesses went. These last two months have been a time of give and take, success and setback, love and frustrations. But overall, these last sixty days have been a tremendous blessing towards the peacefulness of our household.
Taylor is fully potty trained. Simon’s taken an interest in potty training. Taylor’s fine motor skills, as demonstrated by her ability and desire to draw within the lines of her coloring books, are developing nicely and at an even pace. Simon’s sense of self, his personality, his fortitude against the sometimes-overbearing temperament of his sister continues to be unbending to her pressing will. Cognitively and physically both children are excelling. Daily, Taylor says the most amazing things. Simon’s vocabulary, while the accumulation of words did stall a little these last couple of months, is back on track and growing rapidly. But more importantly, Taylor and Simon are happy. They laugh. They play. They fight and make up without extensive intervention. In a word, they are well.
Adrianne and I have embarked on a journey of healthy living. We’ve reintroduced physical exercise into our daily routines. We’ve figured out and are determined to struggle through eating healthily, despite the desperate cravings for that twelve-ounce beverage and nacho dinner on Tuesday night. And I’m proud to say that our resolutions are working. Yesterday I counted my eighth pound lost since January 1st. My treadmill “at pace” speed has increased from 4.5 mph to 7 mph. And for the first time in many months my jeans feel comfortable once again.
What does the New Year hold in store for us? I don’t know exactly, but it’s looking good so far.
See you next week.
Taylor is fully potty trained. Simon’s taken an interest in potty training. Taylor’s fine motor skills, as demonstrated by her ability and desire to draw within the lines of her coloring books, are developing nicely and at an even pace. Simon’s sense of self, his personality, his fortitude against the sometimes-overbearing temperament of his sister continues to be unbending to her pressing will. Cognitively and physically both children are excelling. Daily, Taylor says the most amazing things. Simon’s vocabulary, while the accumulation of words did stall a little these last couple of months, is back on track and growing rapidly. But more importantly, Taylor and Simon are happy. They laugh. They play. They fight and make up without extensive intervention. In a word, they are well.
Adrianne and I have embarked on a journey of healthy living. We’ve reintroduced physical exercise into our daily routines. We’ve figured out and are determined to struggle through eating healthily, despite the desperate cravings for that twelve-ounce beverage and nacho dinner on Tuesday night. And I’m proud to say that our resolutions are working. Yesterday I counted my eighth pound lost since January 1st. My treadmill “at pace” speed has increased from 4.5 mph to 7 mph. And for the first time in many months my jeans feel comfortable once again.
What does the New Year hold in store for us? I don’t know exactly, but it’s looking good so far.
See you next week.
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